I consider myself to have had rather a narrow escape while at Malaga, in a visit which I made to the ruins of the castle. The ruins of the Moorish fortifications are of extraordinary extent; they reach from the city to the summit of the hill that flanks it to the east,--a distance not much less than a mile; and desirous of inspecting the ruins, as well as of enjoying the views which I had no doubt were to be enjoyed from the heights, I devoted an afternoon to this walk. As I ascended, occasional gaps in the ruins discovered charming glimpses over the city, the sea, and the mountains; and at one spot, where a half-fallen spiral staircase leads to the summit of a round tower, whose ruins flank the wall,--the whole magnificence of the prospect burst upon me. The city, washed by the Mediterranean,--the fertile plain to the north of Malaga, covered with gardens and orangeries, and sprinkled with villages and convents, and the fine range of magnificent and curiously broken mountains that environ that little plain;--the situation of Malaga leaves nothing to desire. I had not yet ascended above half way,--and the higher up, the more extensive are the ruins; the lower part being occupied by fortifications, but the upper half of the hill being covered with the remains of the castle. Soon after leaving the tower, I passed three ruffian-looking men sitting under the wall playing cards; and perhaps prudence ought to have whispered to me to return; but an Englishman with difficulty persuades himself of the possibility of violence in day-light; and the sun being above the horizon, I continued my walk. Higher up, I found myself entirely enclosed among the ruins; and having gone so far, and believing that I could be at no great distance from the summit, I resolved not to return by the same road, but to find some path that might lead me down the other side of the hill, either towards the sea or the back of the city. I therefore continued threading my way among the ruins. I had reached a very solitary spot, entirely shut in by massive walls, when, passing within ten or twelve yards of a low archway, scarcely two feet above the ground, I chanced to turn my eye in that direction, and was startled by seeing the dark countenances of two men peering from the mouth of it, their bodies being concealed by the gloom within. All that I had heard and knew of the character of the lowest class in Malaga, suddenly recurred to my mind; I felt the full danger of my situation, and walking a few wide paces farther, as if I had not observed them, till a fragment of the ruin was fortunately intercepted between me and the arch, I sprung forward with no tardy step; but not before a stealthy glance had shewn me the figure of one man already half way between the arch and myself, and another on the point of emerging from his lurking place. I have not the smallest doubt, that if these men had been aware of my approach, or if, in the